


Fifteen Cups of Joe

by justahufflepuff



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Marauders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-02
Updated: 2013-06-02
Packaged: 2017-12-13 19:10:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/827823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justahufflepuff/pseuds/justahufflepuff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kingsley is the overworked Chief of Police. In a search for a quiet place, he finds Lily's coffee shop and a cheerful waiter who leaves chicken scratch notes on all of Kingsley's receipts. Falling in love is a messy process.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fifteen Cups of Joe

"Excuse me sir,"

An all-too-cheerful voice broke through the relative quiet of the café as Kingsley looked up from his pile of paperwork. He'd come to this place because no one else did, thus insuring the bare minimum of social interaction. Blinking up at his waiter Kingsley tried to hide a frown. The pile of work had finally begun to decrease and now this boy felt like pestering him.

"Sir, you've got to order something." The waiter continued without noticing Kingsley's growing displeasure. "You've been here for two hours."

"I'm working." Kingsley replied.

"I can tell." The waiter's copper hair kept falling in his eyes as he glanced between King and his papers. "But sir, you've really got to order something or I'm going to have to kick you out."

"Fine." He didn't have time for this. As Chief of Police, he had responsibilities. Most of them involved signing papers. The whole point of coming out here to do so rather than staying in the office was that here none of his officers could bug him. After all, he had deadlines to make and a public to please. "A shot of espresso, please."

Grinning as if he had just won a small prize and not received a coffee order, the waiter nodded before trotting back behind the counter. Kingsley watched him. He really did trot. Jesus, if only everyone could be that benignly happy with a dead-end job he might have less crime. Shaking his head he turned back to his work.

A few minutes later and a double shot of espresso slid into his peripheral vision, accompanied by a pumpkin scone he didn't remember ordering.

"On the house." His waiter explained before he could open his mouth. "You looked like you could use it."

Slipping the receipt on top of the paperwork, the waiter gave Kingsley a large, happy grin before trotting off once more. Huffing he nibbled on his scone, settling down to finish his paperwork.

It wasn't until the end of the night, after he had gathered up his completed work, double checked to make sure he hadn't left anything behind, paid, and then triple-checked for diligence sake that Kingsley noticed the writing on the receipt. _Enjoy your bonus scone!_ the waiter had scrawled onto the paper (though how anyone could call that chicken scratch writing Kingsley would never know). _And please stop frowning so much, it's bad for your health. –Benjy_

Shaking his head in disbelief, Kingsley tucked the receipt into his pocket and walked home.

 

*

It had been a few weeks since Kingsley had taken up refuge in Benjy's café. (Or, more aptly, the café where Benjy happened to work.) He still had the stupid receipt in his pocket, tucked away in his wallet so it wouldn't get beaten up. It was incredibly stupid and sentimental, keeping the damn thing. Yet... Kingsley didn't want to get rid of it. People like his overly friendly waiter reminded him why he kept up with his paperwork in the first place. He worked to keep the city safe so people like Benjy could glow at their costumers and leave silly messages about smiling on the backs of their receipts.

"Boss," Sirius Black, one of Kingsley's best and brightest, stuck his head into King's office. "Alastor said something about needing you. I think it had to do with a raid on some drug pin’s house. Sounded important."

Kingsley resisted the urge to groan. Alastor Moody had a penchant for acting far too overzealous when it came to these sorts of things. Probably discharged his weapon several times, and accidentally manhandled a few civilians. Excellent. Even more paperwork. Two hours found him back at the coffee shop with more paperwork than he received in roughly half a year and the strong urge to hit Moody over the head with a 5'x5'. He would not be sleeping tonight, that much he could already tell.

 

*

"You're back!"

Kingsley shouldn't feel this surprised to hear Benjy's voice. He worked here after all.

"I have more work." He said gesturing at the stack of official reports.

"You'll want something to drink.”

Glancing at the piles of things he still had left to do, Kingsley ran a hand over his smooth head. “Espresso. Two shots.”

“Anything else, sir?” Somehow Kingsley had the feeling that he would get something else whether he ordered it or not.

“You’ll find something.”

“I get to surprise you?” Benjy asked, sounding so genuinely pleased that Kingsley almost took it back.

“At least charge me for it this time.” Benjy grinned, and Kingsley couldn’t help but give him a small smile in return. “Give me a real smile and you’ll get it for free.”

That was flirting. The waiter had just flirted with him. Did that cross some sort of ethical code? ‘Thou shalt not flirt with men who have large stacks of work before them’? Not to say he had any problem getting hit on by cheerful men in coffee shops. His love life took back burner to the back burner at this point, any and all movement to illicit a change in that was good movement in Kingsley’s books. Still. Getting hit on over reports about manhandling and the possibility of having another sexual harassment seminar didn’t quite do it for him. Perhaps he’d have to start coming around this place without the paperwork. He wished he had the energy to flirt back.

“Charge me for it this time.”

Shrugging Benjy turned. “Next time. I’ll get a smile out of you next time.”

Three hours, two cups, four shots of espresso and one blueberry muffin later and Kingsley dragged himself up the stairs to his apartment and collapsed on his bed. By the time he had left, Benjy had already clocked out, but he had kept his receipt just in case… _You should order something fancy next time. I have excellent foam art. Bet it would even get you to smile. –Benjy_

*

“He’s not here today.”

A redhead greeted Kingsley as he walked into the coffee shop early Sunday morning. Thrown, Kingsley blinked at the girl behind the counter. What? That didn’t make any sense. Benjy always seemed to just materialize when he entered the shop. Hell he had even begun to believe the young man lived in the storage closet. After all, this had become his regular stop. It had been two weeks since he’d last shown up bogged down with papers. Now he just stopped by for the foam art and the conversation. Two weeks and he had yet to miss Benjy behind the counter.

“He doesn’t work weekends. He’ll be so cross to discover that he missed you.” The ginger told him, flipping the switch on an expensive looking machine as she rung up the person waiting at the register.

“Oh.” Kingsley said shifting on his feet. The coffee shop didn’t hold quite the same appeal without Benjy in it. He had every receipt the man had scribbled on tucked carefully away in his dresser at home.

“Is there something I can get you?” She asked. “To drown your sorrows?”

It felt oddly like cheating to order an espresso when Benjy wouldn’t ring it up, so Kingsley settled on something else instead.

“Hot chocolate.” He mumbled, picking the first non-coffee item he saw on the menu.

The redhead grinned in a way that did nothing for his nerves. “No coffee this morning? Shame. My foam art’s rather fabulous as well.”

The tips of King’s ears turned pink.

“That’s what I thought.” She sounded all together too smug for his liking. “My name’s Lily, I own this fine establishment. Your drink will be up in just a minute.”

When he got his hot chocolate, Kingsley impulsively flipped over the receipt to check for a note. _0142 435 2497. Here’s his phone number, call him he doesn’t bite._

A phone number. Excellent. He could most certainly work with a phone number.

 

*

Kingsley made up his mind to finally phone his coffee shop boy on Tuesday. He’d gone in Monday to discover that Benjy had called in sick. Lily had smirked at his disgruntled face but offered over no address. Instead she’d handed him his hot chocolate and a raspberry bar before shooing him out of the shop. When Benjy hadn’t shown up by Thursday, Kingsley figured that his boss had meant it. He had even come in at different hours just in case his favorite barista had inexplicably taken to ignoring him and asked his boss to lie. More unfortunate things had occurred in his love life. Dating the Chief of Police came with more pitfalls than perks.

Thursday night greeted Kingsley in the form of three different take out boxes, reruns of the daytime drama he’s guiltily addiction to, and a phone balanced on his knee its bright face staring up at him. He’d call, he decided, once the episode ends. By the time the ending credits roll he’d had two beers to loosen his tongue and numb the nerves. Not like he had need for nerves. After all he and Benjy had talked before. Just… never on a phone.

Two minutes later the phone was ringing and Kingsley tapped out a nervous staccato on the arm of his chair.

“Lily ‘m sick,” Benjy’s voice is gravelly and slurred with both illness and sleep and somehow Kingsley has never been more attracted to him. “’M so bloody sick please sod off unless you can magic soup and a wet towel through the phone in which case-”

“I’m not Lily.” Kingsley interrupts, feeling the need to make this known before anything too embarrassing happens.

“No.” Benjy admits after a pause. “You most certainly are not.”

“Sorry for not saying earlier. This is-”

“Kingsley. Kingsley from th’shop.” Benjy knew his voice.

“Lily gave me your number.”

Another pause the sound of sheets rustling. Oh god he’d caught the man in bed. Of course he had, the poor bastard had a cold. Benjy was in bed.

“I’ll have t’thank ‘er for that tomorrow.” he paused again to cough. “Sorry I can’t do much talking.”

“It’s not a problem. It’s rather late, and you sound like you could use some-”

“Kingsley,” Benjy cut in voice fond. “Shut up.”

Startled, he obeyed.

“Since you’ve woken me up, it only seems appropriate,” more coughing. “To put me back to sleep.”

“How do you propose I do that?”

“I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

Friday morning found Kingsley asleep in his own bed, phone line still going, the sounds of Benjy’s gentle snoring filling his room.

 

*

Two weeks rolled by. He and Benjy talked each other to sleep six more times. Kingsley had barely managed to hold himself back from showing up at the man’s house with soup and bad movies. He would have given in, if Black and his partner Potter hadn’t managed to get him tangled in a bureaucratic nightmare with the folks down at Booking, the entire Drugs division and the homeless shelter from down the block. If the pair of them weren’t such damn good detectives he’d fire them to save himself the trouble. He took another look at the legal forms and press releases scattered around his desk and decided that he might just have to fire them anyway.

“Ah, Mr. Shacklebolt?” One of Potter’s favorite rookies stuck his head around the door. At least Potter knew better than to show up personally.

“Yes, Pettigrew?” He growled not looking up from his paperwork.

“There’s someone in the lobby asking for you, but they’ve not got a badge.”

Someone from the press most likely unless a civilian had finally cracked and charged Moody with assault.

“Bring them in.”

Next thing he knew someone was sliding a cup of espresso under his nose.

“You never visit me any more.” A petulant voice came from somewhere near his elbow. Kingsley started.

“Benjy!”

“Thought I might stop by your place of employment, since I’ve never seen it. Lily gave me a longer lunch break and everything.”

Grimacing he gestured towards the piles of mussed up paperwork. “I meant to, honest.”

“Is it always like this?” Benjy asked, sitting down on the corner of his desk.

Kingsley ran a hand down his face, feeling in this moment older than he had in years. “More often than not.”

For a moment the other man paused, glancing between the open office door and the pair of them at the desk. Then he reached over and rubbed his thumb gently over Kingsley’s cheek. The contact lasted just a few seconds before Benjy cleared his throat and jumped off the desk.

“Right, yes, well. You need a break.”

Feeling pleasantly warm Kingsley simply stared before remembering that actual words went along with conversations. “Christ, I’d love one. Haven’t got the time though, not even for your coffee shop. I barely have time to breathe.”

“Lily’s coffee shop.” Benjy protested, the tips of his ears clashing with his cooper hair.

“Don’t stare at Lily’s arse, do I.” He muttered into his paper work as Benjy started coughing with abandon.

“Right, umm, right, yes, the umm, the shop probably, ahh,” positively crimson Benjy started scooting towards the door as he smashed a hat Kingsley hadn’t noticed before on to his head. “Lily’s probably, hmm, you’re very, I’ll just be off then.”

Kingsley watched him go with amused eyes.

Ten minutes later a very confused looking Pettigrew showed up at the door again. “Erm, that man left you this?” He handed Kingsley a receipt for parking.

Grinning, Kingsley took it.

_You do need a break. How about I take you out for dinner? We can get coffee afterwards? Oh bollocks. Call me._

“Boss,” Black called from down the hall. “Who was that? You don’t get visitors. Was that a gentleman suitor? Do you have a date?”

“There is no one talking to me whose job is not currently on the line!” He barked back, but he couldn’t help the grin spreading across his face.

 

*

By the time the day was over, the only thing keeping Kingsley from throwing his two favorite detectives bodily from the building sat tucked in the inside pocket of his jacket. _How about I take you out for dinner?_ He wondered if Benjy had set out to ask him out or if he’d done it on a whim. Sure the man had flirted with him nonstop from day one, but Kingsley had just chalked it up to a personality trait. Oh he had appreciated every single second of it, and he had given up pretending he wouldn’t mind if it did meant something when Lily had passed over a hot chocolate and Benjy’s number. He’d just never seen himself as someone… dateable. He kept horrid hours, barely slept, ate crap take out most nights and had trouble Sharing His Feelings as his ex-girlfriend had so kindly put it.

Yet Benjy had showed up at his office, somehow managed to enamor himself to two people he had never even met, given him coffee and asked him out to dinner.

Twelve years on the force and a boy from a coffee shop can catch him off guard.

The moment he got inside his apartment, he shucked off his coat and took a seat in the armchair in the corner. It had become the customary place he called Benjy from. Well, besides his bed. But talking about a dinner date from bed felt… presumptuous somehow.

He dialed the one number he knew by heart.

“Hello?” something behind Benjy clanged loudly in the background. “Oh buggering fuck!”

“Have I interrupted something?” Kingsley asked.

“No, no! Ow!”

“Are you alright?”

“I just, erm, tripped.” From the background he could hear Lily yelling something like: ‘If you’re not going to tell me where you’re off to the least you can do is close up shop.’

“Of course you did.”

“Enough of my clumsiness, you’re calling about umm, about ahh,”

“Dinner.” Kingsley prompted.

“Yes, that. I… you do still want to go?”

“Benjy.” He scolded, inexplicably fond.

“Right.” Kingsley could almost picture his smile. “Right, I’ll pick you up tomorrow at seven.”

“Benjy.”

“Kingsley.”

“You don’t know where I live.”

 

*

The date turned out an unmitigated disaster. Almost anything that could have gone wrong did. The car broke down on the way over. Then the toe truck ran late and they missed their reservation. They ended up squeezed into a back table near the restrooms, watching the streams of people flow by as their food took ages to arrive. Half way through Benjy accidentally spilled wine down his front and Kingsley knocked over both candles trying to help clean it up. By the time desert arrived, the restaurant staff looked so frazzled that Benjy over-tipped them on purpose. Kingsley hadn’t had this much fun in years.

It was late when they left, cold for April, and he could see Benjy shivering through his thin coat.

“Thank you for that.” Kingsley said, and he meant it despite the way that Benjy laughed.

“Yeah, any time you want me to screw up a date ring me up and it’d be my honor.” Benjy didn’t sound entirely serious but Kingsley could hear the tint of regret in his voice.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, I had a marvelous time. Though I think we might have made half the staff cry…”

“Well, we did set the table on fire.” Benjy said.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a waiter look so panicked before.”

“Clearly you never come into the shop during rush hour.”

“No. Perhaps I ought to change that.”

The startled, pleased look on Benjy’s face was all the answer that Kingsley needed.

They stood on the street corner, staring at each other, both on the verge of something they didn’t quite know what to do with.

“Looks like I’ll be walking home.” His date joked after a long silent minute as he ran a hand through his mass of fluffy curls. Biting the corner of his lip Kingsley considered him.

“Or you could just come home with me.”

Benjy froze, eyes wide.

“I’m not implying anything,” Kingsley clarified hastily. “But my apartment’s really not all that far away, and I imagine yours is quite a bit farther. Just thought it made more sense.”

“You want me to come back to yours?” Benjy asked slowly as a smile crept across his face.

“Yes. Yes, I really do.”

 

*

He woke up to the sound of Benjy’s light snoring. Not a wholly unusual occurrence these days, but this time the sound didn’t come filtered through crackling speakers. Rolling over, he turned his bleary eyes to the still sleeping man in the bed beside him. Benjy slept with his limbs akimbo and his face buried in Kingsley’s favorite pillow. The steady rise and fall of his bare chest shifted the sheets down from around his shoulders.

Nothing had happened between them last night, not really. They’d gotten a bit drunk, which had turned in to getting a tad handsy on the couch, and then Kingsley had told Benjy he needed to get up for work in five hours but that the other man was more than welcome in his bed. Benjy had followed him. King knew Benjy had his spare pajamas drawn tight around his waist to make sure they didn’t fall off; he’d helped put them on after all.

Now they were in bed, and he was certain Benjy had rolled onto him at some point last night because has vague memories of a warm, comforting weight at his back and hot breath huffing on his shoulder. God he could wake up to this every morning and die a happy man. It wasn’t surprising, how much that thought rang true. They’d known each other for little over a month, but no one made Kingsley smile like Benjy did, not for a very long time. Letting people in wasn’t exactly his forte yet this one man and his stupid fluffy hair had wormed his way into his heart in a matter of months.

Rolling himself out of bed as quietly as possible Kingsley did his best not to wake Benjy. He didn’t know when Ben had to start work but guessed it wasn’t six in the morning. Gathering his work clothes he slipped out of the room, pausing to place a soft, hesitant kiss on Benjy’s forehead. No need to wake him up to say goodbye.

Before he slid out the door, he left a note.

_Good morning. You looked quite comfortable, didn’t want to wake you. I left breakfast and coffee things out for you. Please stay as long as you want. The door will lock behind you. –K_

 

*

“Your neighbor thought I was a burglar.”

At the sound of Benjy’s voice Kingsley smiled but he didn’t look up. If he didn’t get a reply to this soon the major would start breathing down his neck, and he needed to start delegating people to deal with all the press. “Which neighbor?”

“The angry, sulky one.”

“Ah. That would be Severus.”

“Is he normally that pleasant?”

“Unfortunately, you probably caught him in a good mood.” Kingsley joked, just for the joy of hearing Benjy laugh.

Benjy’s low chuckle bounced through the office and for the first time today the string of chain robberies at high-end stores didn’t seem quite as pressing. He looked up to meet the other man’s eyes and grin, affectionate and warm.

“Oh good, I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever look at me. Thought I might have done something wrong.”

“Why-“

“You left a note, I woke up alone.”

“I wake up at five, love, I just figured you didn’t want-"

Before he could finish his reply, Black skittered through his door, clutching a stack of paperwork like a shield.

“Does it have to be now?” Kingsley asked.

“Errr,” Whatever Sirius had expected, a civvie bearing coffee and wearing Kingsley’s clothes obviously wasn’t on the list. “I suppose it could wait-"

“Then make it wait.” Kingsley used his very best ‘no means no’ voice, hoping it would actually encourage Black to leave. The last thing he needed was Sirius Black’s nose in his private life.

Sirius glanced at Benjy, then at his boss, then back to Kingsley. Benjy looked amused. Kingsley looked two steps closer to homicide. “Wait a minute,” Black said slowly. “You’re the boss’s gentleman caller!”

“Pardon?”

“The one who took him out to dinner last night!” Of course the idiot read the note. Probably had him tailed, too. “And you’re…wearing his clothes.” The amount of smug delight in Sirius Black’s voice ought to be outlawed. “That means-”

“If you are not out of my office in the next four seconds, you will find yourself out of a job.”

“Right-o! Happy office sex!” Black saluted on his way out and Kingsley seriously reconsidered his policy on manslaughter.

Benjy let out a sigh-like exhale, his face pink.

“Well.”

“I’d like to take you out again, I’d like you to stay over again.” I want to be there when you wake up. Kingsley added silently. “But currently I’m chained to my desk.”

“Right, of course.” Benjy grinned. “The city is a 24/7 lover.”

“Crime doesn’t stop.” Kingsley agreed, slightly morose. “And it’s always going to be like this, Benjy, I don’t want to lead you on or anything.”

“Okay.” He agreed. “Our first date was horrible, last night was brilliant, I didn’t do anything wrong, you’d like to take me out again. I can live with playing second to London.”

Thank god.

“Do you mind if I…?” Benjy had pulled a book out of the pocket of his coat and gestured towards a chair in the corner. Smiling, Kingsley nodded his approval and bent over his work once more, a soft, content feeling settling his gut and chest. He could get used to this.

 

*

He did.

The next few weeks of his life became a blur of copper hair in his peripheral, a soft patter of extra feet throughout his apartment, a smile on his face at work that had nothing to do with the state of his desk. He found himself humming the songs that Benjy sang while he moved around the precinct. His morning routine synced with Benjy’s and even when he didn’t stay over Kingsley moved around the apartment as if he was there.

Everything in his life felt lighter. He walked with a slight jump to his step now. Even his deputies had noticed. The sly comments about office sex became a normal part of his life. He had even stopped threatening to make Moody pay for his imminent therapy bills. Benjy brought him coffee with whatever sweet treat the café had made that day and kissed him hello and goodbye each time. They went on dates when they had time, and sat around at each other’s apartments together when they didn’t. Kingsley had introduced him to every member of the force.

It wasn’t perfect; they still hang their hang-ups. Kingsley had trouble prioritizing his time. Benjy was prone to bouts of insomnia and would leave for hours during the night. They weren’t perfect, it wasn’t perfect, but they were working their way there. Then the press found out. The press found out and they were scathing. Rita Skeeter had never written something so gleefully flaming in her life.

“CHIEF OF POLICE’S DIRTY LITTLE SECRET” The headlines read. 

Someone from the station had leaked a picture of Benjy leaning over his desk, and even through the grainy quality and awkward angle Kingsley could tell they were kissing.

Well. This wasn’t exactly how he had wanted to come out to the public. People had started calling for his resignation, enraged by the very idea of a gay chief of police. A couple of the deputies in the other stations quit in protest. He had to put Potter on the bench for punching a guy painting slurs on his car. His life became a confusing never-ending of press releases, memos, interviews and fielding questions. Normally when he did this it involved someone else’s life. Being the center of the white-hot, ever-present press spotlight gave him a headache.

But the worst part, the very worst part, was that Benjy disappeared. The day the article hit they had kissed goodbye in Benjy’s small apartment with promises of a movie night and nice pitchers of beer. When Kingsley returned Benjy wasn’t there. He hadn’t showed up the next day when King dropped by to check in either. A box full of his belongings showed up on his doorstep the day he interviewed with cable news. On top sat a note with the simple words: _I’m so sorry, King._ All of Benjy’s things disappeared from his house the same day.

The one thing he had made clear before all his interviews was that they leave Benjy out of this. For the most part they agreed. No one followed Benjy throughout his day with cameras, no one stopped by the café, not a single picture of the man Kingsley had fallen in love with made the news. But they asked about him. Oh they asked all the time. Where had he gone? They wanted to know. Why was he keeping so quiet in all of this? What did he do for a living, what was his name, how did they meet, how long had they been seeing each other, question after question after question after question. Kingsley never answered any of them.

“CHIEF OF POLICE’S SECRET PARAMOUR MISSING!” The headlines read.

When Kingsley went to sleep, he slept alone.

 

*

It took two months for the hay day of his private life to calm down. Not wanting to attract any negative attention to the café Kingsley had avoided it. He sent Potter and Black, who had proclaimed themselves his personal bodyguards and lackeys, to get his coffees. Potter came back fresh with stories of Lily, the new love of his life. Black came back with stories of the cardigan-clad bookkeeper from next door. Kingsley cared, he did. The damn duo had grown on him. It was just… None of the receipts came back with messages. He kept them anyways.

 

*

The door still rang high and pleasant when Kingsley opened it. The place still smelt of cinnamon, coffee grounds and vanilla. Not even the layout had changed: all plush, sleek armchairs and rich oak and ash tables. He had never missed a coffee shop this much in his life. “Be right with-“ Lily’s voice greeted him before her head popped up from under the cash register.

“Oh. It’s you. Sorry, we’re closed.”

A crease formed in Kingsley’s brow. “You don’t close until 7. Benjy gets off at 8. It’s only 6:20.”

Straightening up Lily crossed her arms and glared at him. She cut a formidable figure. Tall, willowy and lean she seemed to take up the entire room by sheer force of will and nothing else.

Until now Kingsley had always considered them friends.

“Let me make this clear: for you, we’re closed. Indefinitely closed.”

The small hard ball of hope curled in Kingsley’s stomach dropped right through to his feet. “Lily, please-“

“We’re closed.”

“Lily,” Benjy’s voice called from the storeroom and Kingsley nearly broke down and cried for want. Three months, god three months since he’d heard that voice and he’d never loved the sound of baritone so much in his life. “Do you need any help?”

“No, Benj, I’m fine. Finish up cataloguing, yeah?”

“Please,” Kingsley begged, taking one step out of threshold onto the shop floor. “Please let me at least talk to him for a minute.”

“We’re closed, Shacklebolt.” From the back of the storeroom something shattered.

“Go home.” Lily said and this time the edge had left her voice.

Courage melting off his body Kingsley let his shoulders go slack and he turned and left once more.

 

*

Kingsley spent the next month getting continuously thrown out of Lily’s café and filing overdue paperwork. Every call he made to Benjy went straight to voicemail and his texts went unanswered.

He didn’t understand. He could live with rejection, he really could. But this didn’t sound like a break up it sounded like a cop out. Legally he knew this wasn’t the best move. Lily could definitely press charges for loitering and possibly stalking. But she hadn’t yet. Yesterday she had even handed him a scone on his way out.

More than anything Kingsley missed Benjy. He still moved around his apartment like Benjy lived there. Every morning he made two cups of coffee just by muscle memory. Now he had taken to drinking both. The second one always looked so lonely, so dejected.

 

*

The last thing Kingsley expected to find on his doorstep at 9 o’clock in the evening was a worn out Benjy Fenwick, and yet that’s exactly what he found. Kingsley dropped his bag full of take-out.

“I hope you over-ordered.” Benjy said. He smelt like cigarettes and burnt toast. “Thought you might want to talk.”

Briefly King considered shutting the door on Benjy’s drawn, lined face. Even in his mind he couldn’t follow through. Wordlessly he opened the door to his apartment and let the other man slip through.

“Lily says you’ve been coming in all month.”

“Would’ve come in earlier as well, but the press kept me swamped.”

Benjy had the vaguely uncomfortable look of a child reminded of the time they broke a vase. “Ah. That.”

“You changed your phone number.”

“You were busy.”

No, no he hadn’t been busy he had been overwhelmed. The press had swarmed in without any sense of mercy and he hadn’t known which way to turn for fresh air. Now spring had decided to sit out on his stoop and ask for take-out.

“You moved out.”

“Can we talk about something else?”

“No. Benjy, I need to talk about this.” Dragging a hand down his face Benjy sighed and the sound left his throat like sandpaper over unfinished wood.

Wordlessly they eat Chinese in each other’s company, whole mountain ranges between them, continents away. Once again Kingsley slept alone.

 

*

It continued like this for two weeks. Benjy would show up at Kingsley’s after work. They eat in silence. Sometimes Kingsley cooked. No one sang. They barely spoke. The pair moved around each other like enemy soldiers unsure of the treaty lines. It was broken, fractured down once sanded edges, but it was still theirs. And that counted for most of it.

 

*

“I was scared.” Benjy admitted as Kingsley turned his key for their fifteenth hallway meeting. “No one had ever put my picture in the paper. My sexuality’s never been the interest of an entire city. I can’t handle these things like you can. I couldn’t put on a strong face for the public and hold your hand. So instead, I ran. That note, I meant it.

“I’m sorry King. You deserved better than that.”

Kingsley set the pizza down on the table and let that process. “It was new for me, too. Can’t blame you for getting scared, can’t really blame you for running.” If he had had that chance, he’d have taken it in a heartbeat. No questions asked.

“Doesn’t change the fact it was a shitty thing to do.” Benjy pulled at the hairs on the carpet.

“No,” Kingsley agreed and he grabbed them both a beer. He still bought Benjy’s favorite. It had become an acquired taste. “But I’ve seen worse.”

“Worse than Skeeter?”

“Someone’s finally sued Moody for sexual harassment and manhandling. I had to break the news.”

Benjy’s surprised laugh filled the apartment, bounced off the walls and made them gleam again, and the mountains between them shrank.

“Has your neighbor showered as well, then?”

“He came dangerously close the other day. I believe Black threatened him with a hose.” It hadn’t happened, not really, but Kingsley wanted nothing more in the world than the warm shade of Benjy’s laughter.

When he was rewarded with just that, Kingsley smiled and meant it for the first time in three months.

 

*

Slowly they began to piece themselves back together. Nights inside overrode nights out as they re-learned each other’s ins and outs, the nooks and crannies they’d almost but not quite forgotten. Their rhythm moved just a few notes off beat, minor key shifting back towards major. It wasn’t what they’d had before but it felt close enough to grow comfortable and content.

“I’m going to grab a coffee.” Kingsley announced and James jumped up as well.

“Going to Lily’s, yeah? I’ll come with.” He reached for his coat.

“Under no circumstances are you going to come visit my boyfriend with me.” Kingsley stated, gathering his things.

“But the only boy who works at Lils’ is-“ Kingsley could picture the exact way James’s eyes had just widened, as well as the look of delighted shock on his face. “Sirius!” He called down the hallway, actually cackling with glee. “Sirius you owe me 40 pounds you bastard!”

As had become habit, Kingsley thoroughly ignored him. He found it worked out best for his general mental health.

By the time he had reached the café it was rush hour. Benjy and Lily wove back and forth behind the counter, filling orders and serving drinks almost simultaneously.

Catching sight of his entrance Benjy sent Kingsley an earth-warming grin. “Hello, love.” He greeted as he beckoned Kingsley to the front of the counter. “Figured you’re predictable, wrung you up already.”

“What if I wanted something different, hmm?”

“Unlikely.” Benjy teased, pushing down the lever to steam someone’s milk. “You like your classics.”

“I like your classics.” Kingsley countered just for the chuckle it earned him.

Things between the two of them improved every day. Benjy had slept at his place the entire week. Kingsley made them both breakfast, the engrained routine no longer disjointed. Benjy had stopped borrowing a toothbrush and brought his own over. They finally stood side by side in the small rooms of his apartment. There were no mountains left to climb. Pulling out a pastry bag and a steaming to go mug Benjy passed them over the counter.

“Did the honor of ringing you up and everything.” Leaning over the counter Benjy kissed him on the lips as Kingsley handed over his change. “Read your receipt.” He ordered in a whisper, and oh Kingsley liked the promise dancing in his eyes.

“Always do.” He promised. “Always do.”

_Missed your sweet face for breakfast this morning. ☹ My pancakes aren’t shaped like Mickey Mouse at all. If possible, delay coming home until 9:30 sharp. Just don’t let the boys take you out drinking. xxx –Benjy_

 

*

Obedient and curious Kingsley had stayed in his office until 9:15, finishing up the last of the red tape on Moody’s case before turning to the promotion pool. He had to pick his favorites and turn them into the committee before next Tuesday. He wanted to get home. Now more than ever he found himself checking the clock on his desk and glancing out the door as other people left. Work used to suck him in for hours upon a time: no matter what he did he couldn’t seem to make a dent in it. He had married the job the moment he’d taken the promotion those long years ago. For once in his life he sat in office and thought of home.

By the time he got home his entire apartment smelt promisingly of rich, dark chocolate. A beautifully frosted two-tiered chocolate cake sat in the center of his kitchen table. It almost looked store bought, but Kingsley could see the smear of cake batter along the rim of the counter Benjy had forgotten to clean up. Champagne flutes sat on the counter, the alcohol smoking in loose curls from a bucket of ice.

Setting down all his things in the entryway Kingsley shut and locked the door. A deep and irrepressible happiness spread from his chest all throughout his body leaving a fuzzy tipsy tingling in its wake.

Benjy sat in the middle of the floor in Kingsley’s room with a black silk top sheet wrapped around his waist. He was staring down at a small pile of papers wearing an expression Kingsley didn’t quite know what to do with.

“You kept all of them.” Benjy said his bare back hunched over, tension rolling between his shoulders.

Kingsley shrugged his coat and suit jacket before sinking down to press himself against the familiar curve of Benjy’s back. From this angle he could see what had caught his boyfriend’s attention.

The receipts.

Every receipt Benjy had written on, every receipt Sirius and James had brought back from the two months of non-communication. Every single one.

“Yes.” He answered. “At first, I kept them because I needed a constant reminder they weren’t some sort of trick or illusion. Then, just because I liked them.”

“I’ve not written on half of these.” The confusion leaked into the corners of Benjy’s voice. “Lily rang most of these up while I hid behind the counter.”

That made Kingsley chuckle. “True, but they’re from your café.”

“Lily’s café.” Benjy reminded him.

“Don’t stare at Lily’s arse do I?” Kingsley replied and Benjy leaned back into him, swatting at Kingsley’s hands as they circled his waist.

“None of that, I made you a cake.”

“Going to serve it to me in my top sheet are you?”

“I was going for naked, but then I found the receipts.”

“Shame, I’m quite a fan of you naked.”

“You really kept all of them?”

“Why are we talking about this when you very clearly naked in my arms?”

“Kingsley, please.”

It was a plea, not a request, and that’s what got him in the end.

Removing a hand from Benjy’s waist Kingsley ran it over his hand and sighed. “Of course I did, Ben. They were from you.”

Benjy made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat and Kingsley bent down to kiss the hollow of his neck. “They lived in my wallet for awhile. Then I got too many to keep them there safely. After that they lived on my wall. That corner over there.” Kingsley nodded towards the spot he could see best from his bed. “Right everything went south I could see this little part of you I got to keep, and it didn’t seem quite as awful. Everyone kept prying into all the parts of my life that actually mattered, but once you told me to smile. Another, you asked me out to dinner. Explaining my sex life to an audience felt less traumatizing if I could remember you sneaking extra shots in my coffee for free.”

It was the closest that Kingsley had ever come to saying I love you to someone who mattered. From the way Benjy stilled and let his breath catch in his throat the other man could tell.

“I wrote you dozens of notes. Back then.” Benjy admitted. “I wrote them back in the storeroom. Lily only knew the basics of what happened. She didn’t know I ran first. I was too much of a coward to correct her when she assumed. But I wrote you piles of notes. Then you never came, and your deputies came in and bought your coffee for you and you never mentioned me on the news-“

“-Thought you wanted to stay out of it as much as possible, didn’t want them dragging you down like they did me-”

“So I hid them. In the flour barrel. Lily doesn’t do any of the pastries. They’re still there.” That was the closest Kingsley had ever heard to I love you too in over ten years.

“Stay with me.” Kingsley said. Benjy replied by twisting around and kissing Kingsley fierce and fast.

“Move in. Please, move in.” Kingsley asked later, tangled in the top sheet, the champagne going lukewarm in the kitchen, cake thus far untouched.

Benjy threaded their fingers together and huffing deep breaths into Kingsley’s chest, closer than they had ever been.

 

*

Their lives weren’t perfect. Sometimes Kingsley still staid too late at the office. Sometimes they fought, loud and messy. Occasionally Benjy would stress bake at the café until the sun rose and Kingsley wouldn’t see him. Benjy brought home a cat and Kingsley despised it. But they had coffee together every morning. They slept tangled together and loved brilliant and bright. Benjy sang in the mornings. Kingsley visited him at work. They hid notes throughout each other’s lives and smiled when they found them. Their lives weren’t perfect. But they were working on it.


End file.
